


Super Hank

by maderi



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Connor has a crush, Creampie, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Superhero Hank, superhero past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-09 03:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20485007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/pseuds/maderi
Summary: When cleaning the long forsaken laundry room bears unknown fruits, it's about to turn Hank and Connor's lives upside down. How hard can an android crush on a vigilante of old?





	Super Hank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piggy Ho-Ho](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Piggy+Ho-Ho).

> This is the last story for the HCRBB 2019!  
I had the absolute pleasure of working with the amazing Piggy Ho-Ho for this last installment.  
Be sure to check out their absolutely beautiful art!
> 
> https://twitter.com/piggyhoho_2nd/status/1171588780228104192?s=19

“Just one more moment, Hank, please?” Connor begs from the living room, trying to finish watching the umpteenth remake of Superman vs. Batman.

He’d come by the phenomenon of superheroes while sorting through interesting facts of the years through Hank’s youth. The superhero hysteria interested him greatly, resulting in Connor sorting through and cataloging each and every superhero from before Hank was born and up until this day and age.

He became especially interested when he found that Detroit had had a superhero of her own. From 2026 to late 2031, a vigilante going by the name of “The Bear” because of the mark on his uniform and his significant size. The man had hit down hard on drug gangs but focused mainly on the Red Ice cartels in Detroit.

The Bear had been huge and broad, just like Connor knew Hank would have been in his younger days. Though if he was being completely honest with himself, he might be projecting the vigilante on Hank out of his own gain.

Connor had been hopelessly infatuated with Hank almost from the beginning. When he’d walked into the bar that fateful November night, he had already prepared for who he was supposed to find.

Hank Anderson, the fallen pride of the DPD, looked nothing like the man who had achieved everything that his case filed had stated. The drunk, old man who had sat at the bar had been the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit’s history, the fierce leader of the Red Ice task force, and a decorated man. Connor had almost been unable to withhold his disappointment, unable to understand how a man like that could have fallen this far.

But as their mission progressed, Connor saw the side of Hank that he thought was long gone. Humans surprised him in the weirdest of ways, turning around and brushing off their shoulders as if nothing at all had happened. Connor saw Hank for the first time and with this, it didn’t take long before feelings emerged. Feelings he didn’t know how to put into words.

Detective Reed had called him Hank’s puppy, his lapdog, but Connor couldn’t find it in him to care. Especially after the introduction of his younger brother, Nines, the upgraded version of himself, the RK900. The Detective had been assigned Nines’ partner, and by the sound of his younger brother, the partnership between them was slowly blossoming into something more.

“You’ve watched this one already,” Hank whined, stomping into the living room with a box in his arms.

“But Hank, this is the one where the vigilante reveals himself to his romantic interest,” Connor whined back, the unnatural whiny twist of his voicebox almost sending a bit of static though.

“He’s going to reveal himself, confess to the guy and they’ll kiss. You saw it two days ago.” Hank complains, and to be fair, Connor had watched this exact movie just two days previous.

“Fine...” Connor pouts as he turns the Tv off and rises to go and help Hank.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Hank bows sarcastically as Connor passes by him to enter the messy laundry room.

It had been Hank’s idea to actually empty the room, but when it came down to it, he didn’t actually want to do it on his own. Connor didn’t mind helping Hank, but the slow progress of cleaning out the house was Hank’s journey. It was the man himself who needed to take the steps towards healing.

Surprisingly enough, Hank had wanted to start with Cole’s bedroom a month earlier. It had been a long week with tears, laughter, and arguments. Hank’s heart was hurting, but as Connor had told him, this wasn’t goodbye. Connor had made sure to hide away a few belongings that he saw made Hank extra emotional and on the last day, he had surprised Hank with framed drawings, new pictures on the walls and little pieces all over their home.

It had been an emotional three weeks since then. Hank had opened up more, had been more at peace than Connor had ever seen him before. That was until Hank burst into the bedroom that morning, preaching about it being time to tackle the laundry room.

Connor, usually the morning bird in their household, had groaned and rolled around, ignoring the older man until he went away, entering an hour later with breakfast and an apology. The morning had been slow after that, the two of them eating breakfast together and chatting about their weekend.

Then afterward, they had sat down to watch the movie, but after only twenty minutes, Hank had stood up and walked over to start cleaning out the laundry room by himself. Connor had let him be, half-listening to the mumbled curses and complaints as Hank rummaged through the chaos that was the laundry room.

Looking inside the room, Connor wasn’t exactly surprised at the mess still painfully there, staring at him as if in a challenge. Sighing deeply, something he’d adopted from Hank, Connor started to put lose pieces into the boxes Hank had unfolded, categorizing each box with what it contained.

Two hours into the job, Connor was on his hands and knees between the washer and dryer, reaching for dear life for some form of a compact, heavy bag that was hidden away in the far back. When he finally caught it, Connor plopped down on his bottom, his HUD alerting him of the inevitable clogging of his fan filtration system as a result of the dust.

But Connor pushed the warnings away, his mind and interest pinned on the compact duffle bag in his lap. Opening the solid zipper, Connor’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline with surprise. Inside the bag was a pair of distinctly familiar-looking pair of heavy combat boots, followed by a hood and tactical gear Connor knew all too well.

Rising from his sitting position on the floor, Connor emptied the content of the bag on the workbench above the washer and dryer, Connor separated the items while he pulled up the case files the DPD had on The Bear. It looked to be the exact same uniform, but then again, these were sold all over Detroit during the five years that The Bear was active, although mostly in spandex. Pulling up the case files photos, Connor spends a few seconds scanning through them, analyzing every detail in the luckily heavily detailed pictures.

“You done with those boxes, Connor?” Hank’s cheery voice calls from somewhere behind him, but Connor’s attention is elsewhere. If he hums a soft yes or not, he simply has no way of recalling.

The analyze of the tactical gear between his hands takes less than ten seconds but when the result blinks back at him with a 99% match, Connor has to run the test again, convinced that he’s made a mistake somewhere. When the next three results ping the same 99%, Connor is unable to hide the shocked gasp that escapes his lips.

“Connor?” Hank’s worried voice calls from behind him, a soft hand landing on his shoulder.

“Whatcha got there?” He asks, reaching for the clothes in Connor’s hands, crowding up behind him to unfold the pieces of the uniform in front of them both.

Wrapped in the circle of Hank’s arms, Connor watches as the tactical gear flops and stretches once more. He’s not surprised when Hank gasps before retreating with the uniform.

“Well, fuckin’ hell...” Hank swore, hand dragging across his face, “Guess the cat’s outta the bag, huh?”

“Hank is this...” Connor tries, but he’s not really able to hold onto a thought long enough for him to register it. “Were you really...”

Sighing deeply, Hank took Connors's hand and lead them both to sit on the living room couch where they sit in silence for long minutes before Hank turns towards Connor, a nervous look on his face.

“See, the thing is that -” Hank starts, but Connor can’t help himself.

“You’re The Bear, Hank!” He shouts excitedly, even though Hank is sitting right in front of him. "The actual Bear!"

Sighing deeply, Hank didn’t say anything as he rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Like this, he reminds Connor of the man Hank used to be when they first met. He looks tired, exhausted even, and a second away from snapping. When he looks up into Connor’s eyes again though, the soft blue that meets his own brow orbs, tells another story.

“Yeah, Con, I used to be.” He says, smiling softly as he puts the uniform back into Connor’s arms.

"The Bear did a lot of amazing things for Detroit. You did a lot of amazing things for Detroit, Hank." Connor tries softly, a hand on top of Hank's on the older man's knee.

"Maybe." Hank hums, "But I obviously didn't do enough."

The implication of what those words meant, doesn't miss Connor's mind, but he refuses to let Hank wallow in events that were beyond his control. Taking both of Hank's hands in his, Connor squeezed hard.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Hank." He says, trying to reach the very stubborn mind of his lover.

"Yeah, you're right. But I still feel like I could have done more, like I could have caught more bad guys." Hank smiles sadly at Connor, squeezing back before he pulls Connor into his lap. They sit like that for a long while, taking comfort in each other's closeness. 

The rest of the day consists of cuddling and movies, Hank's past obviously a sore spot for the older man. Even though Connor has questions, he'll wait until Hank is ready to talk about it. Instead, he tries to fill the day with good memories. Making dinner together was one of the best things Hank and Connor enjoyed doing while at home. As Connor couldn't eat and process human food, he tended to make Hank's dinner, while Hank, in turn, experimented with the new Thirium products designed to be used as android food.

It was a fun time for the two of them, a time for trial and error, oftentimes resulting in laughter and fun dinner conversations.

That night, as they lay in bed, just holding onto each other, their relationship would get a new obstacle to defeat.

Cuddling had turned to heavy petting, which in turn had turned into Hank's fingers deeply buried inside of Connor's ass, stretching and working hard on making the tight opening as buttery soft and slick as possible.

Hank's cock was rocking into the dip of Connor's hip, leaving trails of pre-come in its wake. Connor's own cock was sliding across the swell of Hank's hairy belly. It's a slow and steady torture until Connor can get Hank to finally-finally push inside. The stretch and burn are glorious on Connor's sensors, a long stretched out moan leaving his voice box as Hank finally bottoms out and immediately pulls back out, just to tease him.

Then everything goes to hell.

“Oh Bear!” Connor moans, unable to catch the name before it leaves his voice box.

At once, Hank stops moving, his cock still hard as a rock inside of Connor. His face bears a series of emotions, anger, confusion, embarrassment, jealousy. They play across Hank’s face so fast that Connor is barely able to register the shift, even with his enhanced sight.

“Fuckin’ what now?” Hank eventually growls, pulling out and away from Connor.

“Hank! I’m sorry. I didn’t... It just slipped out of me.” Connor begs desperately as he grabs hold of Hank’s elbow.

He had no idea why Hank’s superhero alias would fall from his lips during such an intimate act, but once the word was out, he knew there was no way back. Watching the emotions play on the older man’s face, Connor feels his nerves bubble up inside of him. Not once had he ever lusted for another man, had always found Hank attractive, a walking wet dream. But as he lay there, waiting for Hank to make up his mind, he came to the conclusion that Hank’s alter ego, in fact, still was Hank.

Hank seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he sighs deeply before plopping down to squish Connor beneath his weight. Connor’s cock jumps excitedly between their stomachs as Hank’s girth presses down on him. It a delicious jolt that sends small currents of pleasure up Connor’s spine.

“H-Hank!” Connor’s voice box cracks, sending static in between the calls of Hank’s name when the older man finally slides inside and starts moving again.

The now lazy drag of Hank’s cock against Connor’s sensitive walls is driving him slowly insane. Connor's sensitivity is ramped up on almost full, something they like to play with every now and then. Through trial and error, they had found the perfect settings for different moods.

This mood though, this mood was new territory for Connor. He didn't know what to make of Hank's quietness, of how he seems to push his hips just a little bit on the hard side into Connor. It left his sensitive wires buzzing, sending warnings left and right faster than Connor could swish them away. Hank mumbles something under his breath before he is on Connor like a bee to sugar, kissing him to within an inch of his life.

The thrusting gets more accurate, more like the way they usually make love. It's smooth and nice, making Connor want to dance while still in bed with Hank above him.

Neither of them was much for kinky stuff, though maybe, maybe something like role play would be good for them. Connor didn't think that it was particularly kinky to wear tactical gear. After all, so many people did that on a daily basis, but the image in his head of Hank in his old superhero get-up, just wouldn't leave his mind.

By the time they both powered down for sleep, Connor had managed to wipe the thought from his mind.

*

The following morning went without any hiccups. Gavin and Nines were huddled close together, the smaller of the two cackling almost hysterically as Nines commented on something.

_'What is going on with Gavin?'_ Connor asks Nines through their private connection.

_'He finds it funny how Hank is muttering your name along with crude swear words.'_ Nines tries to be helpful, he really does, but he has yet to learn how to shield someone else's feelings.

_'What has Hank been saying?'_ Connor dares to ask, uncertain if he wants to know the answer or not.

A ping to Connor's HUD arrives, attached is a small video clip of Hank pacing back and forth as he waits for his coffee to be brewed.

Connor can clearly hear Hank's mumbled "Fucking android piece of shit," and "course I wouldn't be enough for him."

Although the words hurt something deep within Connor, he knows now that his little slip-up yesterday had made Hank feel insecure. It wasn't the first time this had happened though. At the very beginning of their relationship, Hank would argue how he was too old for Connor. How he wouldn't be interested for long when his body grew older, slower and less powerful.

Connor had laughed in his face and called Hank out on his bullshit. He'd let Hank know that being insecure was alright, how doubt and fears were something everyone struggled with, even him, before telling Hank about his own fears of Hank getting tired of being with someone as young and inexperienced as him.

Then he had mentioned the whole Android ordeal, about how he was the new exotic, shiny thing now, but what about in ten years, in twenty! Would Hank still find it as fulfilling to be with Connor as he did then?

After Hank realized that Connor had just as many worries as he did, their relationship progressed smoothly. They'd had very few hiccups since that initial blowout, most worries ending with the two of them sitting down to talk about it.

This obstacle was somehow different. Hank was pushy all day during work, hurrying off to get home the second work clocked out.

But when they arrived back home, Hank did a complete one-eighty, folding Connor up in his strong arms and kissing him senseless. He walked them back towards the couch, twisting them around so that Connor was on top as he plopped them down on the soft cushions.

Connor could feel something in his stomach flutter as they landed all but sprawled together. He could clearly feel the outline of Hank's erection against the dip of his hip, the girthy bulge, a solid reminder of just how much Hank was into him.

“This is a nice surprise,” Connor smiles into Hank’s next kiss, grinning as the older man smiles and deepens the kiss.

“Well, I thought about it and it turns out, I might have overreacted,” Hank admits, smiling even more and tucking a strand of hair behind Connor’s ear as he waits for the words to sink in.

It’s not that Hank never admits to being wrong, he does, it’s just the fact that this situation is altogether new territory for the two of them. Connor called out another name while they were making love. Even though Hank used to be The Bear, it doesn’t excuse how Connor was thinking about someone else than Hank while being intimate.

“Hank, I’m sorry,” Connor whispers, turning his face to rub against Hank’s palm.

“Don’t stress it, Connor. It’s alright.” Hank smiles up at him. “In fact, it's a bit flattering actually.”

And there it is. The absolute smugness that only Hank Anderson can manage to twist his face into. It instantly makes Connor feel better for his slip-up, to see Hank’s playful, smug side emerge to tease him.

“How about we try something new today?” Hank smirks up at him.

“What do you mean, Hank?” Connor asks confused, not at all following Hank’s train of thoughts.

“Get up,” He says as he softly pushes at Connor’s body.

Hank leads Connor to their bedroom, helps him strip down in-between warm kisses and stolen touches. And when Connor sheds the last article of clothing, Hank steps back to admire his young lover. That beautiful blush Connor loves so much is back on Hank’s cheeks, riding high above Hank’s trimmed beard.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Hank says with a sly smile, stopping in the doorway to have one last glance back at Connor.

Sighing deeply, Connor wonders what Hank is up to now. The oddity of humans never ceased to amaze him, but when the buzzing of clippers can be heard from the bathroom, Connor’s nerves and curiosity spikes.

He’s been standing by their bed for fifteen minutes when he finally decides to sit down. Their bed is soft and comfortable, a welcoming hug on Connor’s behind. The buzzing stopped just short minutes earlier, followed by an unsettling quiet which was soon enough disturbed by heavy grunting, clicking of metal and crude swearing.

From the bathroom, just across the hall, Connor could hear Hank struggle with something, making his anger levels rise with every growl and grunt, spiking Connor’s worry. When everything but Hank’s breathing goes quiet, Connor does relax a little. Whatever Hank has in store for him, it’s going to be spectacular, he has no doubt of that now.

And Connor is not disappointed when a minute later, Hank burst through the door and strikes the most ridiculous looking superhero pose Connor has ever seen in his life. Hank is dressed in tactical gear and combat boots. His beard is gone, making way for smooth cheeks Connor has never laid eyes on outside of pictures. The top of his long hair is pulled up into a neat bun, cascading above his shoulders above the hood, his eyes hidden by a mask that is entirely too small to be of any identifying coverage.

A sizzle and a puff sound from somewhere in Connor’s shoulder, followed by Hank’s worried hands on him. Connor is too lost in his own head to push away the HUD warnings, too frozen in time to respond to Hank’s calls.

“Connor!” Hank shakes him, “Ah, shit. Did I break you? Fuck, I thought this would be fun.”

“I’m not broken, Hank.” Connor smiles up at his lover when he comes to again.

“Then what the fuck was that puff and smoke rising from your shoulder?” Hank asks desperately.

“A circuit in my shoulder component seems to have short-circuited.” Connor smiles innocently, averting his eyes when he can feel his Thirium levels color his face.

“An overload, huh?” Hank smirks as he rises to his full height again and strikes the pose once more, this time, directly in front of Connor.

The whole situation is absurd. Hank wearing his now too tight superhero uniform, his erect cock bulging on the side down his left thigh, the swell of Hank’s girthy stomach stretching the fabric to what looks to be its limit above a too-tight heavy-duty utility belt. It is the most arousing sight Connor has ever seen in his life and before he knows it, another puff followed by another string of smoke rises from his other shoulder.

His HUD blinks warningly at him, screaming about instabilities and overloads, offlined circuits in his shoulder components and elevated Thirium pumping. His face and neck must be a deep blue by the look of Hank’s smug face as he looks at Connor, striking another ridiculous pose that has Connor’s dick leaking copious amounts of slick.

“Had I known this would blow your whistle, I would have done this much sooner.” Hank purrs as he crowd between Connor’s thighs, forcing Connor to fall back against the bed.

“Let’s say... you’re a poor, lost android in desperate need of rescue,” Hank grins, “I’ll be the vigilante to come to your rescue.

It dawns on Connor that Hank is trying to roleplay, although very poorly, but it's enough to have Connor’s heart beat harder at Hank’s willingness to explore this newfound interest that Connor has. He’s willing to embarrass himself for the sake of Connor’s feelings, is willing to step outside of his own comfort zone.

When Hank winks at him, Connor doesn’t register the authorized command to activate an orgasm. More often than not, this has been happening whenever they were making love lately. If it was a malfunction, his scanners couldn’t pick up on it, but then again, Connor didn’t much care to find the fault as it resulted in a more natural way of emotions.

The tingling sensation spread across all his limbs, speeding through his cables inside his chassis as if on fire. His cock jumps once, twice, and when Hank descends on him, soft belly squeezing Connor’s member between them, it’s all Connor can take as the fireworks inside of him go off. With a long whine, Connor comes, spine bowing beautifully under Hank’s weight. Rope after rope of lubricant shoots from his cock, smearing into the fabric of Hank’s tactical gear.

“Well, fuck me.” Hank gapes as he looks down at the mess Connor made between them.

Panting heavily, Connor feels like every support beam inside his frame has turned to jello. He feels much like what Hank had described after that first time when Connor had sucked him off; boneless. If Connor had been able to store a soul, it would be leaving his frame after that orgasm.

Plopping down beside him, Hank put his hands behind his head and chuckles. Mustering all the strength he can, Connor manages to turn to his side to face Hank, but when he opens his mouth to speak, a crackling static leaves his voice box.

“Broke ya with my hawtness, huh?” Hank grins a bit too smug as he turns on his own side to fully face Connor.

“I think I am experiencing a malfunction, Hank,” Connor says worriedly, biting his bottom lip as he runs diagnostics which pings back clear seconds later.

“Nah, we just found your thing, kid.” Hank smiles as he traces a finger over the swell of Connor’s cheek.

“My what?” Connor asks confused.

“Your thing, what makes your blood, well Thirium, sing.” He explains all too vaguely.

“Sing?”

“Me, in my superhero uniform obviously sets you off. It’s your kink, what turns you on.” Hank grins smugly then, “Who would have thought that the goodie-two-shoes would be hot for roleplay with an old man.”

Connor’s cock jumps as he realizes that what Hank is saying is right. He does have a thing for this roleplay kink. But more than anything, he has a kink for Hank Anderson, no matter who he decides to be.

More onboard with what is happening, Connor decides that he’s more than willing to do this roleplaying thing with Hank, though he’s a bit uncertain how it all works.

“Oh please, someone help,” Connor calls out dramatically, resulting in a huge grin from Hank.

“What can I help you with, fair um... android, Sir?” Hank stumbles ungracefully, not at all as experienced as he pretends to be.

“I have shot my load and I cannot find it again.” Connor smiles as he watches Hank try his best not to laugh, eyes trailing over the spilled slick on his stomach and chest.

“I, The Bear of Detroit, will assist you in finding and saving this mystical load of yours.” Hank boasts bravely, as into his character as the best of drama and theatre students.

Unable to help the chuckle that escapes him, Connor all but burst into flames when Hank rolls over and at once engulf Connor's entire cock down to the base. The wet, slick heat of Hank’s mouth is enough to send lesser men to their graves, but when Hank slides his tongue back and forth under Connor's corona, actual stars dance in front of Connor’s eyes.

“O-oh H-Hank!” Connor calls as his fingers find the neat bun in the back of Hank’s head and card his fingers through the long locks of hair, careful not to rustle the mask.

Releasing the seal with a loud, obnoxious pop, Hank looks up at Connor, spreading his boneless thighs up and wide before diving in between Connor's ass cheeks.

Hank's tongue is deliciously fat as it enters Connor's tight pucker, making Connor twist and turn under Hank's ministrations. When a little finger enters him, followed by Hank's warm mouth on his testicles, Connor is just about ready to leave this world.

Another finger follows and before Connor knows it Hank is rising from between his thighs, stopping to tear at the crotch of his superhero uniform.

"Take it all off," Connor pants, rising up to rest on his elbows as he looks at Hank standing between his thighs, "But leave the mask, please."

"But then I won't be The Bear?" Hank utters curiously, staring at Connor as if he'd lost his head.

“I don’t need The Bear, I just need my Super Hank,” Connor smiles softly as he rises up to kiss Hank’s perplexed, but pleased face.

"Well, fuck..." Hank mumbles before kissing Connor back and stepping out, off the bed.

Stripping his uniform takes surprisingly less time than putting it on did, and within seconds, Hank, his Hank, stands in front of him in all his naked glory. If a little bit of The Bear and the roleplay is left, neither man speaks of it. 

Hank's naked body and the mask makes Connor's cock jump excitedly, teeth finding his bottom lip once more. Hank is gloriously thick and hairy, his cock a nice fat length just waiting to spread Connor open, to have Connor at his mercy.

The thrilling sensation of having Hank, naked and erect, dive for him, is one of his absolute favorites. It does something to him, makes his insides become alive and crawl around. Connor can feel slick running down his ass crack, his prepared hole buttery soft and patiently waiting to greet Hank's cock. The initial push inside, the stretch and slight burn, always has Connor's systems halt for short seconds, overwhelming him with all the sensations.

Hank's a big guy all over and as the girth of his cock reaches its fattest point, Connor is almost at his limit between pleasure and pain. But as if made for Connor's frame, the fat girth slims down a little and the rest of Hank's length follows after, bottoming out inside Connor's channel.

Moaning, Connor's spine bows beautifully for Hank, the wild sparks burning behind the mask over Hank's eyes as Connor smooths down again, is testament enough that Connor has the same effect on Hank, that Hank has on him.

At the first experimental thrust, Connor's entire frame all but explodes. The background of his eyes lights up, his LED shines a solid red and his imitated skin disappeared completely to make way for his smooth, white protoform.

Hank halts in his motion for just a few seconds before the smuggest face Connor has ever seen takes over the soft features, Hank's ego obviously overflowing to disturb his face. Connor couldn't care less when the next deep thrust passes over his own artificial prostate, agonizingly slow and precise in its way to ruin Connor from the inside out.

He finds that he's unable to master his frame, his control board unresponsive to his commands. A static crackling leaves his voice box as Hank leans down to rest most of his weight on Connor, enveloping the smaller frame as he rocks into Connor with more force.

Connor is helpless, unable to do anything more than to just lay back and watch the show, his frame acting on its own, overwriting Connor's own commands. If he's being honest with himself, he doesn't really mind as his head is too overwhelmed to really catch on.

He watches as his arms wound around Hank's neck, pulling him closer, meeting the now smooth face in a long breathy kiss. The touch feels electrifying, making the skin on his face tingle deliciously.

Panting, Hank breaks the kiss to hide his face in the crook of Connor's neck. His mouth attaches to the skin there, softly biting down as he speeds up his thrusting and breathes heavily through his nose.

Hank's rocking is starting to lose its rhythm, a telling motion that tells Connor that his lover is close to falling undone above him. The hold Hank has of Connor's neck is unrelenting, so the only choice Connor has left is to pull Hank even closer.

He gets enough control over his frame to wrap his legs around Hank's waist, the two of them fitting perfectly like this. Connor loves the feeling of hanging onto Hank, the wide dip of his stomach a perfect fit to occupy the space between then.

The hairy, slick chest above him is rubbing rudely against Connor's nipples, sending small jolts of pleasure all through Connor's frame. His cock is trapped behind the swell of Hank's stomach, the warm flesh dragging past his dick with every movement Hank makes.

A grunted growl sounds from the crook of his neck, the vibrations sending a pinged shock straight to his abdomen. Within seconds, Connor spine bows as much as possible in his possession, as his cock releases the pent up pleasure his frame has been harboring for the past fifteen minutes.

Ropes of slick shoots between them, his hole milking Hank's still thrusting cock as it slides in and out of him faster and faster. Hank is holding onto him as if his life depends on it, and as Connor comes down from his emotional high, he's not so sure that that's very far from the truth.

It doesn't take Hank long to follow after Connor, the older man landing a deep thrust, burying his cock to the very base inside of Connor as he lets loose. Connor can feel Hank's heavy balls contract against his buttocks, can feel his cock depositing load after heavy load inside him until Hank goes lax and all but collapses inside the cocoon Connor has made around him.

Breathing heavily, Hank finally let's go of Connor's neck, kissing and licking softly at the abused skin before sloppily pressing his lips up to Connor's mouth. Kissing slowly, they stay like that for long minutes, just embracing each other, quietly waiting for the other to land.

Hank's dick eventually goes flaccid and slips from Connor's hole, a wave of come following to form a wet spot underneath them. By some miracle, Hank muster enough strength to roll them around, Connor now sprawled on top of him.

It's a comfortable position to be in. Resting his head on Hank's chest, Connor falls into recharge to the sound of Hank's steady heartbeat, a smile plastered on his face.

He doesn't see Hank's face softens as he looks down at him, doesn't register the soft brush of Hank's fingers across his cheek before he's folded up in the older man's arms and rolled around to be spooned on Hank's side of the bed.

"You're a heaven-sent gift to this old fool, Connor..." Hank whispers as he kisses Connor's shoulder before removing his mask and closing his eyes, heart happy and full.

*

When Hank gets called into Jeffrey's office the next afternoon, a solemn-looking Nines in a corner chair, firmly held down by Reed, that things turn wild. The two painted an odd scene in Hank's mind. Though it wasn't unusual to see the two younger men fuming about something, it was usually the other way around, Reed pouting and Nines looking pleased. Neither men were pouting or looking pleased now though.   


"What's going on, Jeffrey?" Hank asks eventually, the weird display from the two men in the corner throwing him off for a moment.   


"Where's Connor?" He adds a second later when it clicks that Connor wasn't in the room with them.  


In fact, Hank hadn't seen his partner for a few hours now. He'd been too occupied by the precinct erupting in a flurry of stressed planning and buzzing around. There had been an odd spell across the DPD today, one Hank wasn't able to pinpoint from his slightly dazed place by his desk, still exhausted from the activities the night previous.   


"That is why I've called you here, Hank." Fowler grunts, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. "Connor has been kidnapped."  
  
The words are short, informative, just like they've been trained to forward stressful information, but Hank finds that he is unable to understand the words coming out of his old friend's mouth.   
  
"Come again?" Hank says as he crosses his arms across his barrel chest, an uneasy feeling crawling up his spine. 

  
"Connor has been kidnapped by a man calling himself Red Velvet," Jeffrey informs once more, but at the mention of Hank's, or rather The Bear's, arch-nemesis, Hank spins into action. 

  
There has only ever been one person who knows about Hank's vigilante days, but as time passes, Hank doesn't really care who knows anymore. 

"A call came thirty minutes ago, informing us of the situation and The Red Velvet's demands," Jeffrey says slowly, careful not to out Hank. 

"I don't care, Jeffrey, Connor needs to be rescued now. What did the idiot want?" Hank barks, annoyed by the way his old friend doesn't even react. 

"He wanted The Bear, Hank. In exchange for Connor, he wants you." The look on Jeffrey's face is something out of a soap opera. The usually stone-faced man looks heartstricken and slightly afraid. And with good reason, Hank thinks. 

The Red Velvet, the lord of the Red Ice cartels was the one big fish Hank and his alter ego never managed to catch. For years they were neck to neck, a hair strand away from catching each other. They'd had a lot of fights, a lot of close encounters, and the one time Hank actually managed to arrest the man, a paid-off policeman arranged his release on the way back to the station. Hank had been livid when the villain went underground for years, opting to stay out of the big picture, no doubt pulling the strings from behind the safety of his security detail. 

He had been the one that got away, a ghost looming over Hank for the rest of his career, and now he was back. He had Connor, but how he had figured out that Hank was The Bear, he had no idea. There were no records or anything that could lead back to him, that had been his number one priority before taking up the mantle of vigilante. 

"Where do I have to be?" Hank asks, unfolding his arms and squaring his shoulders. 

"Hank, you're not going in alone. This is a trap for sure." Jeffrey argues, bracing his arms on his desk as he stands up. 

"Save it, Jeffrey. Connor's all I got now, there's no option of a life without him. You know that." It's an emotional conversation, but Hank finds that he doesn't have to think twice about the decision. 

"The square at midnight." Jeffrey sighs, "But Hank, take Nines with you. Please."

Hank just nods as he turns to leave the office and then the precinct. Midnight, seven agonizing hours...

"So what's the plan?" Reed's annoying voice peeps up from beside him, his other side shortly occupied by Nines' terrifying frame. 

"There is no plan, Reed. You two are going to go back to your home and that's it." He's angry, he knows this, but he needs time to cool off, needs time to collect his thoughts and to lay a plan good enough for Connor to get to safety. 

"Well, that's a stupid-assed plan." Reed snorts beside him.

"Well, it's how it's gonna be." Hank barks back, even angrier now. 

"Lieutenant, your worry is understandable, but I can assure you that Connor is safe for the time being. He is..." Nines starts but is rudely interrupted when the words register with Hank.

"How do you know?" He all but shouts.

"Connor has been sending me updates from the moment he got abducted, and hour, fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds ago," Nines informs without any idea of what he just said. 

"What do you mean Connor had been sending you updates?" Hank turns on the young android, halting them in their steps towards his car. 

"All androids have an internal intercom, meaning that we can communicate with each other from anywhere in the world at any given time," Nines explains as if he's telling Hank how a coffee machine works. 

"Are you telling me that you know where Connor is right now?" Hank pokes a none too gentle finger to the middle of Nines' chest. The young androids LED spins red for a second before it turns back to its relaxed blue again. 

"Connor just sent me the coordinates now. They are to be found at an old warehouse twenty-four minutes and three seconds away." At the mention, Hank grabs a hold of the younger man and turns to march over to his car.

"You're coming with me." He grumbles as he pops the trunk of his old beat-up car.

"Lucky I brought this old thing to be sent to the cleaners today," Hank mumbles as he opens the duffle bag and empties its contents before stripping down right there in the parking lot. 

"Whoa, whoa, old shit!" Reed wallows in protest, "The fuck you think you're doing?"

Ignoring the younger man, Hank gets dressed in his tactical gear, uncaring that he just stripped down in front of other people. Had Jeffrey seen him now, he would have been reprimanded five days from Sunday. But time was of the essence and it wasn't like Hank had anything to hide anymore. Fastening his mask and raising the hood, Hank bangs the trunk closed and holsters his gun before walking over to the driver seat. 

"The Bear, huh?" Reed comments, a blush upon his cheeks. 

"The captain informed us of this while in the office, did you not understand?" Nines dry commenting all but sized at the older man. 

"I wasn't interested, alright. You refused to tell me what was going on, so I focused on you instead." Reed shouts like a teenager, annoyed with his older brother. 

"Was it because you were infatuated with him?" Nines grin slyly and for a second, the words don't register with Hank. 

"You had a crush on me?" Hank has to ask, looking in the rearview mirror to see the younger man's face turned bright red. 

"Dunno if that's disturbing or just downright cute, Gavin," Hank laughs, feeling a little bit better. 

They follow Nines' directions until they come to an old warehouse, rusty and deserted. Hank's certain that the Red Velvet has heard them coming by now, but he prays that luck is on their side. Sneaking into the warehouse isn't at all difficult, the doors all but open to them. 

"As suspected, I see you have arrived at last my," But then the voice is interrupted. 

"Hank! Hank! Look at me, I'm a hostage, Hank!" Connor grins over at him from his place on a chair in the middle of the room, his arms tied behind his back. 

"I mean, oh The Bear, come help me," Connor yowls dramatically. 

The display throws them all off of their game, even The Red Velvet seems to be surprised enough to stop dead in his tracks. A look of disbelief is no doubt on all of their faces, everyone waiting to see if what they heard was /actually what they heard/.

"Oooh my big, great hero, come save me from the bad man," Connor continues before he's smacked on the head and yelps, looking a bit displeased. 

"Shut up!" The Red Velvet shouts, pointing a gun at Connor's head. 

"I've looked forward to this moment for the last ten years, Mr. Anderson. Imagine my joyous surprise when this stupid android came asking about The Bear. It wasn't hard to follow it back to your place, even less of a challenge to kidnap it." The Red Velvet cackled. 

"Put the gun down. You wanted me in exchange, so here I am." Hank tries to calm the madman, but to little help, instead, the man turned his gun at Hank.

"I think not. A two for one seems a much better deal now that I know how much you care for it." The voice was almost inhumanely cruel, "Now, on your knees. I want you to watch as I kill your lover bot."

"Please, you have what you demanded. Let him go." Hank pleaded, not daring to take his eyes off of Connor's still smiling face. 

"Why are you crying, Hank? Is that all part of the game?" Connor asks, smile faltering a little as tears begin to roll down behind Hank's mask. 

"This isn't a game, Connor." Hank croaks, desperately looking for a way to draw his own gun at the madman. 

Connor's LED spins red a second before he starts laughing, a pinched smile on his face. 

"Why didn't you just say that?" Connor asks softly before tipping backward and breaking free of his bonds. 

Using the chair to disarm The Red Velvet, the shot going off into the rafters with the force of Connor's blow. The madman is on the floor, clutching his no doubt broken arm before he's hoisted up by Nines and cuffed by Reed. Connor comes running over to Hank, falling to his knees as he cups Hank's cheek. He looks so distressed, LED spinning an angry red as a thumb wipes away Hank's tears.

"I thought you arranged this for me, Hank. I'm so sorry!" Connor begs, all but cradling Hank into his lap. 

"I'm getting too damned old for this shit, Connor," Hank growls, taking Connor's lips in a deep, angry kiss before rising to his feet. 

Marching over to The Red Velvet, Hank yanks off the mask to come face to face with the man who almost took his second chance at a happy life away from him. Behind the mask was a man Hank didn't recognize, a man his own age, looking tired and weary. He sneered at Hank before Nines lead him away. In the distance, Hank could hear the sirens wailing and Reed snarking as he followed Nines. 

"He said you came asking about The Bear?" Hank just had to know.

"I did... Yesterday during lunch. I thought I'd see if I could get some more information on you." Connor admits, blue creeping up to color his cheeks. 

"Hell, Connor. You'll be the death of me one of these days..." Hank can't help the laughter that escapes him now that the adrenaline bubbling inside him has calmed down a little. 

He still has Connor, was stupid to even think that the young android couldn't handle himself. He was the top model of detective androids, equipped with every fighting style and analysis known to mankind. Yet, the deviant hunter had become a deviant himself, becoming more human for every day that passed by. With a superhero crush, who was he to blame Hank for worrying? 

~ The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Remember to have a look at Piggy Ho-Ho's beautiful art!
> 
> https://twitter.com/piggyhoho_2nd/status/1171588780228104192?s=19


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